Litmus Test Poem by Hans Raj Sharma

Nothing is pure
But, the words
Like bee's nose
Sensing freshness
Of pulling fragrance
Of variety of flowers
In search of honey
In the gardens
Gardens of this life
Forgoing its life
In the womb of
A sweet flower
Of its choice.

Nothing is pure
But, the words
Like deer's ear
In acuteness of
Listening to
The haunting tunes
Of hunting-flute
Spellbound
Falling prey
Into the trap
Making
Supreme sacrifice.

Nothing is pure
But, the words
Like butterfly's eye
Catching the sight of
Beauties of colours
Unmindful of
The danger to life.

Nothing is pure
But, the words
Like an elephant's lust
Lust-torn jumping into
The sludge and slush
Never to be back.

Nothing is pure
But, the words
Passing through
The litmus tests of
Bitterness of truth
Bad blood or ill will
And honesty
In its true
Sense and spirit.

Nothing is pure
But, the mess
With a crazy race
That even if I win
I'm still mad.

-Copyright © hrsharma ®2015
Ludhiana, Punjab, India